Rashid Irani's review: Immortals

If one were to delve even into the skeletal plotline of Immortals (in 3D, ho-hum) it would be nothing more than Greek and Latin. Suffice it to say that the three pivotal characters here are so clichéd that we don't really have to worry about their fate at the end of this 100-minutes swords-and-sandals saga. Three decades ago, Conan the Barbarian did it all and with more razzle-dazzle.

Back to the lead trio: Henry Cavill is a peasant whose mother has been killed. Hello vendetta! Mickey Rourke is the evil monarch who it seems wants to rule the world. There is Freida Pinto as a vestal virgin who's an early era Nostradamus of sorts. Heads are chopped, blood spurts, a spear or two flies into your face, and the final battle evokes the wrath of every God imaginable.

Director Singh Dhandwar (The Cell) overloads the film with his usual pyrotechnics. He must be congratulated for one thing though: he extracts her career-worst performance from Ms. Pinto. See her and the film at your own risk.